


For your own good, boy.

by WhisperingFingers



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Amputation, Gore, Gross depictions of amputation, Profanity, WIP, gangrene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 07:33:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10432425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperingFingers/pseuds/WhisperingFingers
Summary: The Junkers BackstoryWarning: graphic depictions of amputation/gangrene/goreRead @ your own riskand Enjoy!





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a long time ago but I feel like I captured Junkrat's spirit well and my bf told me to post it
> 
> WIP - may or may not be completed

The barn, like everything else in the outback, looked stripped down and abandoned but it didn’t stop Roadhog from pushing the barn door open gently to rummage for anything worth salvaging. The walls were bare and a pile of metal junk rested in the corner, resembling a small collection.  
Finally, thought Roadhog, something good. 

The man strutted toward what was obviously another junker’s hoard but high chances were Roadhog was bigger and stronger. No doubt in his mind that he could easily crush the person he was stealing from. His mind wandered to the memories of carnage he wrought upon the conflicting citizens of the outback. Thoughts interrupted by the sound of rustling from under a wooden board, Roadhog grunted, preparing to tear apart the owner of the hoard. He tore the board from the wall and was confronted with what looked like a dirty dirty child. 

Good hand grasping a wrench, the kid shook in fear, Roadhog presumed, although he could see a gleam of defiant fire in the boy’s eyes. His other arm sported a stump wrapped by a handkerchief that did little to hide the green rot spreading up his skin. 

“Back up off me ya cunt or i swear-”

Roadhog grunted and lifted the boy up by a leather strap secured to his chest. He shook the boy once, taking note of the homemade prosthetic jabbing its way into the pig tattoo on his belly. The kid twisted and flailed, having dropped the wrench, beat against Roadhog with his fist and bloody stump. 

Roadhog felt a bit of admiration for this kid. Despite the fact that the man could snap his spine in two with one hand, the kid fought like he had a real chance. Maybe ‘Hog didn’t have to kill this one…

The kid reached in his pocket and yanked out a detonator. His maniacal laughter filled the barn and Roadhog considered crushing the boy’s skull in his hand but dismissed the idea and wrapped his meaty palm around the kid’s hand. 

“Want to lose the other one?” 

He could see the boy visibly swallow before letting the detonator go slack in his hand. 

“What’s it matter if ya gonna kill me anyway?”

Roadhog merely grunted before pulling the detonator from him and dropping the kid to the floor and turning to leave.

“Oi mate, where ya going? Hey you bloody cunt, I’m talking to ya!” 

He paid the kid no mind as he sauntered off towards the door. What did it matter to him if the boy died being ripped apart or from infection. 

“How’d you like to be my personal bodyguard ya big lug? I can pay ya!” 

At this, Roadhog turned to look back at the kid. How could this sad excuse for a human being have anything to pay him with, the kid didn’t even have a shirt. 

 

“The name’s Junkrat!” 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It’s infected. It has to come off.” 

 

“The fuck ya mean, it’s gotta come off? I’d rather drag my balls through broken glass than have ya hack at it with that bloody fucking knife” 

Roadhog wiped off his machete with an old cloth. The blade was dull and he knew Junkrat would spend the entire time bitching at him about trying to cut his arm off with what was practically a spoon, but the action was necessary to save the smaller junker’s life. He stood up. 

Alarm splashed across Junkrat’s face as he scuttled backwards from his newfound partner in crime. 

“Nah mate cmon you’re not actually gonna-” 

 

Roadhog gripped him by the prosthetic leg and dragged him forward. He kneeled down, trapping the offensive appendage under his knee. He secured the pus oozing stump with his free hand and pushed the machete down into the soft flesh, an inch or so above the greening skin. Junkrat howled, slamming his good fist fruitlessly against Roadhog’s leg. Face indecipherable beneath his mask, the man went along till he hacked through the kid’s arm. He wrapped the shorter stump in the cleanest cloth he had found and pulled back to admire his medical work. 

It then occurred to Roadhog that the screaming had stopped halfway through the crude procedure. He knelt down to peer at the unconscious rat and sighed. He pulled off his mask, rubbing grime off his face as he tilted Junkrat’s face up to pull the mask over it. He pulled out one of his last few canisters of irradiated air and pushed it against the mask till he heard the telltale hiss of it being released into the smaller junker’s breathing space.


End file.
